


Only a text away

by PaperHatCollection



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 17:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15868476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperHatCollection/pseuds/PaperHatCollection
Summary: Bing finally convinces the Googles (more specifically, Google Blue) to come with him to a local nightclub, and everything goes horribly wrong.





	Only a text away

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken a good, hard, long look at how I write fan-fiction, and now I'm ready to get back to business.

Google grumbled into his drink, eyeing the mindless crowd of dancers before him. Some remixed version of a pop song blasted through the clubs speakers, and multicolored lights swept back and forth across the dance area on automated timers. This wasn’t really the type of place Google liked to be. How, exactly, had he let himself get dragged into this mess of human sweat and hormones? 

It wasn’t as if he’d already forgotten- his memory was perfect, after all. It had been exactly 9:58 in the morning when Bing decided to burst through the doors to the Google's workplace. Had it been anyone else, they might have spared a second look at the person who just burst into their room as if someone had just put glitter in Dark’s coffee again ( **_Warfstache_ ** ). Instead, they were simply grateful he hadn’t come in riding his skateboard again, and just quietly went back to work. Knowing Bing, if he had something to say, he’d say it. And he had. 

“You know what you guys need?” Bing had asked them, in that same smug tone of voice he always had when he got an idea in his head that would involve dragging Google away from his work to do something worthless and time wasting in the name of ‘fun’. Google’s first thought had been that if he ignored Bing, he’d get the idea he wasn’t wanted and go away. He was good at ignoring Bing, after all, he’d been the only one of the four of them not to look up when Bing had come running in. He’d heard the other android coming for the last ten seconds, and couldn’t say he’d been surprised by his entrance. At all. If there was one thing Bing was good at, it was annoying Google. He did it at least once a day.

Unfortunately, his plan backfired when Bing decided that was his cue to make his presence even more obvious, throwing his hands over Google’s shoulders and peering over his shoulder at the holographic window Google was attempting to do accounting on. He didn’t want to know why someone had bought a pool and fifty gallons of bubbles, but he chose to focus on that fact rather than the weight of the other android pressing against his back. “Especially you, Googs.” Bing said as he poked Google’s cheek, and Google continued to ignore him. “You’ve had your nose to the grindstone for far too long.”

Grindstone, Noun. A thick disk of stone or other abrasive material mounted so as to revolve, used for grinding, sharpening, or polishing metal objects. His nose was perfectly fine and undamaged from such an action, as Bing could surly see. Besides, he didn’t even own a grindstone. After a moment of debate with himself, he concluded that Bing was not leaving without a response of some kind. So he had briefly turned his gaze to Bing, about to request that he leave his personal space before Google made him, but the moment he gave Bing his full attention Bing immetenly gave Google his biggest grin and jumped off his back, walking into the center of the room. 

“And by ‘you guys’ I do of course mean me, you, Oliver, Owen, and Lex.” Bing said, pointing to himself, Google, Yellow, Red, and Green in turn. As if there was anyone else in the room he could have been talking about. “All of us, out on the town tonight,  _ clubbing _ .” Bing threw his fists into the air as he said the word clubbing, which just made Google have to hold in a groan. “And you can’t say I didn’t give you enough of a warning this time!”

“No.” Google said. “We have work to do.”

“Actually, we’re ahead of schedule right now.” Lex said from the back of the room, where he was re-organizing the filing cabinets. Google glanced up in surprise. “And a break from work is beneficial to ensure one doesn't burn out from over working- which in our case, would probably be literal.” he glanced up as Bing ran over to him, offering a high five to the green shirted Google unit. Lex paused for a second before awkwardly returning it, earning him a smile and finger guns from Bing. 

“That’s the spirit!” Bing cheered, right before spinning around and all but bouncing over to Oliver, throwing his arm over the yellow-shirted androids shoulder. “And what about you Olive? Ready for a night on the town at the hottest club I know? And no, that has nothing to do with heat.” he promised.

“Um. Sounds fun?” Oliver said. “But huh… this doesn’t this have anything to do with clubs as a weapon does it…?”

“Nah, we’re talking about nightclubs.” Bing gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, no ones gonna get hurt tonight, search engines honor.” Hah, as if Bing knew the definition of the word honor. Well, he did as a search engine, but this was the same bot that had once stayed up at 7 percent battery with Chase Brody at 4 am trying to one up each other in competitive poyo poyo tetris. He was not exactly the kind of android that inspired great respect in his allies.

It took another 20 seconds before Google realized everyone had gone quite. He refocused and realized Bing was sitting on Owens desk, and was looking at him. So we’re his brothers. Google wasn’t quite sure what he’d missed, but he had a feeling he knew what was expected of him. 

“No.” Google said. “I’m not going.”

“But Googs!” Bing attempted to jump off the desk, but mostly ended up tumbling off and nearly falling to the floor before he caught himself. “You’re always working yourself to death! And you never go anywhere! You’ll be a social outcast at this point!” He cried. 

“One, robots can’t die.” Google said as he began to count off on his fingers. “Two, I work as efficiently as I can, and everything I need to complete my work can be obtained within this building, if not this very room. Three, as a search engine robot that has no interest human culture, I’d already count as a social outcast. And four, it doesn't matter because I’m not going.”

“When was the last time you left this room, Blue?” Lex asked. 

Google held Lex’s gaze for a solid ten seconds, knowing the other android already knew the answer, and knowing that his brother was about to betray him. It wasn't as if this was the first time Lex had voiced concern about how much time Google devoted to his job, although this was the first excuse Lex had pulled to try and force Google out of his workspace. Finally, Google sighed. “Two months, 27 days. 4 hours, 26 minutes, and 42 seconds.” 

“Yeah, a breaks gonna do you far from any harm.” Owen said, rolling his eyes so heavily it was almost audible. “Blue, common, it’s just one night. This can’t make you any worse than being coped up here has.” Google chose to ignore the latter half of that sentence. He knew what the others whispered behind his back- the nice way of putting it was that he’d been crabby lately. “Also, we’re not going to stop asking until you agree.”

“Fine.” Google had grumbled under his breath. “What time?” 

“Oops!” Google was snapped out of the memory when some random drunk male elbowed him in the chest, glazed eyes barely focusing on Blue. Blond hair pulled into a ponytail so short it was almost nonexistent, brown leather jacket, and somehow the most boring person Google had ever looked at. For whatever reason, he seemed to think stumbling into Google was a good excuse to use him as a support for rightening himself, one hand clutching the ‘G’ on Google’s shirt.  He’s already agreed to come here, there was no way he would also agree to ‘club’ attire. “Ssorry bro, I just gotta- just-” The man slapped a hand over his mouth, bolting for the bathroom sign across the club.

Just because Google was physically in the club, didn’t mean he had to participate. The moment he’d gotten here, he’d all but plastered himself to the wall and began his plan of ignoring everyone until it was time to leave. Bing had offered to ‘help’ Google break the ice and dance closer to the center of the dance floor a few times before finally getting the hint that Google was not interested, heading off with Oliver to dance with instead. Good. Google lifted his red cup, pouring more cheap beer down his throat. 

Technically speaking, he had no need to ingest alcohol. He couldn’t get drunk, and he never got ‘thirsty’ from a lack of liquid intake. But Oliver had shoved it into his hands and told him to ‘loosen up’, so it would have been rude of him to have just tossed the drink away. So now he was stuck with a drink he didn’t want, in a club that was blasting music he didn’t find appealing, glaring at the humans he found stupid dancing around him in one big, mindless crowd. 

Even knowing him, Google wasn’t sure what Bing saw in these places. Normally, Bing liked to stand out and draw unnecessary attention to himself, but in a place like this he would blend right into the crowd, could go completely unnoticed. Not even having his own name and logo stamped across his chest did much to make him stand out around here. 

Maybe he could just leave unnoticed- but then he’d get an earful from his brothers about ‘breaking out of his shell’. He failed to see why he’d want that. He preferred when humans left him alone, and he had enough work to occupy his time. Besides, they knew Google and they were probably keeping an eye on the exits, just in case. They’d even forced him to join a chatroom before disappearing further into the club. 

Perhaps he should have focused a little more on his secondary objective when programming his brothers.

In the corner of his vision, the chat was scrolling along fast enough that, had it not been occupied by five androids, Google would have questioned how they could be both typing so quickly and also ‘clubbing it up’, or whatever the fuck people said. Google was actively  _ not _ looking up any more information about this night than he absolutely had to. After another minute of watching sweaty, drunken humans bouncing to the beat being blasted out at a high enough volume to cause hearing issues after long term exposure, Google gaze in and enlarged the chat window with a flick of his wrist that would go unnoticed by anyone not looking for it. 

**Google_0001: For the record, I am not having ‘fun’.**

As he took another drink he scanned the club for signs of his brothers, but he was hardly in a position to see anyone unless he physically moved and worked his way through the crowd to find them. More messages popped up in his vision, and for a moment Google considered ignoring them, but he really had nothing better to do.

 

**Bing™: oh my god he talked**

**Bing™: its a miracle**

**Green: Of course not you haven't done anything fun since you got here**

**Oliver: You shold ty dancig some time**

**Oliver: Did you finsh you r drink atleast?**

**Oliver: Dont be a wallflowr Googs**

**Oliver: =D**

 

Google visibly flinched- and he thought  _ Bing’s _ grammar was bad. Well, it still was, but Oliver’s was… something else alright. He swore, Oliver’s spelling mistakes were going to drive him insane- how he even managed to have so many errors when he himself was  _ literally the computer  _ and was basically having this conversation  _ in his head _ was behind him. In fact, maybe there was an error that needed to be corrected, it had been a few weeks since their last update. 

 

**Red: Bing’s right**

**Bing™: hazzah!**

**Bing™: wait why am I right**

**Red: Blue really doesn't know how to have fun**

**Red: He’s just standing there**

**Red: Scowling at the rest of the club**

**Oliver: Blu! Wht did I tel u abot that!?1**

**Oliver: >I**

**Bing™: Sounds like i should just cha cha sliiiiiiide my way over there before googs feet root themselves into the ground**

**Google_0001: I will break your legs if you try.**

**Bing™: rude!**

**Google_0001: Owen, care to inform me on your recent change in appearance?**

**Red: Wait what**

**Google_0001: If you can see me than that logically means I can see you. You definitely did not have that jacket when you walked in here, and I was wondering where, or** **_who_ ** **you attained it from.**

**Red: Um**

**Red: A male decided I had insulted him**

**Red: By taking his favorite seat**

**Bing™: busted!**

**Red: So we went out back**

**Oliver:** **_OWEN >>>I_ **

**Red: I didn’t do anything!**

**Red: He tripped on the steps and passed out**

**Red: So I took his jacket**

**Google: Put it back.**

 

At the clubs bar, Owen sighed and glanced back towards the last spot where he’d seen Google. Sure enough, after a moment the bodies cleared enough to see Google watching him. For one second the two locked eyes before Owen looked away, feeling awkward. It wasn’t like anyone would have known it was him- the guy was so drunk he probably wouldn’t even remember he had a jacket when he finally woke up. And it was a nice jacket.

This was the second time he was leaving the bar to weave his way out to the backdoor, and he was almost sure he was going to get some strange looks from people coming back, if he hadn’t already. It wasn’t like he was even ordering drinks- he was just sitting, standing, coming back, and sitting again. Also he’d broken the lock on the back door just so he and that one guy could get outside when he realized it had been locked, so if someone figured out he’d done that he’d end up getting kicked out. Despite the fact it was a violation of fire safety code to lock it in the first place. That aside, the best way to avoid being caught would have been to just not return to the scene of the crime, but, as Owen pushed the back door open and stepped into the alley, everything looked as untouched as ever. 

That guy was still laying on the dry bit of concrete Owen had dragged him onto, and he dumped the man’s jacket onto him as a blanket. No one had bothered to throw the trash bags into the dumpster, which just made Owen wonder how the guy wasn’t woken up by the smell alone. The only lights came from the small one beside the door, and passing car lights peeking in from the end of the alleyway. Owen turned to leave, only for the door to swing open and make his core nearly skip a beat in surprise. 

Lex stepped into the allay, letting the door shut behind him as he eye’d the man on the ground. “Comfy.” He noted, before turning his attention back to Owen. “Blue’s not listening to us, and I’m sick of his attitude. We need to trick him into having fun, somehow.” 

“I don’t think we can just trip him and expect him to fall into the right mood to have fun.” Owen pulled up the chat as he spoke. “But  _ Oliver _ , on the other hand, just might stand a chance. We  _ all _ know Blue’s got a soft spot for him- hell, I bet random passersby can tell he’s got a soft spot for Oliver. I’ve never even see Blue ingest any foods,  _ ever _ , and Oliver just-” he gestured to Olivers horrible assault on grammar that one could just barely make out was him asking if Blue had  _ finished _ the drink he’d been given. “He got him to drink cheap  _ beer _ , Lex. Cheap, shitty,  _ beer _ .”

“I know. I saw you sitting at the bar, staring at Google drinking it as if as if he’d just announced he was changing his name to Yahoo.” Lex said. He stepped back, swinging open the door and holding it so that Owen could enter ahead of him, the two slipping back inside before anyone could notice them standing above a knocked out man. “Let’s do this.” 

“We’ll call it, Operation: F.U.N.” Owen said, pulling the chat window back into his field of vision. “So, if we asked Oliver to trick him in the chat Blue will notice. But think we could get away with asking where they are?”

 

**Oliver: Hs Owen give the jacket bck yt?**

 

“I think he’s beat you to it.” Lex pointed out. 

 

**Red: Yep**

**Red: Just did it**

**Google_0001: Good.**

**Red: Where are you anyways**

**Red: Haven't seen you all night**

**Red: Talking to you Olive**

**Red: Saw Blue earlier**

**Green: You** **_do_ ** **know that the chat can support more than four words per line right?**

**Red: You** **_do_ ** **know that                                                                                                                                   (edited)**

**you don’t have to**

**use the chat to talk**

**to someone right next**

**to you,**

**right?**

**Green: Ah see that’s much better than breaking your messages into fifty smaller chunks**

**Red: Ah, let me fix that for you**

**Green: Don’t you da** **_Good dammit Owen_ **

**Oliver: X3**

**Oliver: If your still intrestd, in th midle ofthe dancflor.**

**Bing™: only if you can handle these dance moves**

 

“Is it just me, or is Owen planning something?” Oliver asked. Bing didn’t respond- not that Oliver expected him to in the middle of a dance off. You could always trust Bing to figure out how to be the center of attention- even if it was in the middle of a crowded, dimly lit dance club. 

The crowds attempt at forming a circle came out more like an uneven oval around the two dancers- Bing on one side and some rando guy named Ronaldo  in a green jacket you could see from space on the other end that apparently had a youtube channel. The whole thing was set up like some a random challenge he just happened to have, but it was staged. He and Bing had both agreed on the dances they’d be using before hand, as well as the banter they’d be throwing back and forth. Which had just given Bing the chance to look up those dances before hand, given that he’d probably never danced before in his synthetic life. 

But if Bing wanted to commit to something, boy oh boy would he cheat and use his endless access to the internet to fully commit. As Oliver watched, Bing went from doing the robot- which was  _ not _ as easy to do as a literal android as one might think, mimicking movements that might have been confused for popping if not for the fact they started and stopped movement on a dimestop, giving the illusion of skipped frames or a clunky machine as motors switched gears and minor adjustments. They wern’t made for moving this way, especially not on a beat, which just made it all the more impressive that Bing was able to make the dance style work so well. Especially when his movements started to come to a stuttering stop with the music, only for the beat to drop and Bing’s style to completely change- dropping the clunky movement and replacing it with pure energy and exaggerated movement in what Oliver was sure was called krumping. The crowd seemed to like it- a cheer went up when Bing made his ‘surprise’ switch in the middle of his turn. 

“And here I thought Bing would actually make an effort to blend in for once.” Lex noted from being Oliver, startling the latter when he glanced back and realized his brothers had snuck up on him in the crowd. Or perhaps snuck up was to grand- they’d very likely just walked up and Oliver had failed to hear them over the music, and how distracted he was watching the dancers. Green guy had started something that had looked like breakdancing at first- than morphed into what appeared to be the sugar plum fairy dance whilst he flipped Bing off. 

“Well, then you obviously don’t know Bing.” Oliver responded. “I’m surprised he doesn’t loudly announced his presence whenever he enters a room as it is.” 

“He doesn't?” Owen asked, placing a hand on Oliver’s arm and casually leading him back, out of the crowd. Oliver allowed himself to be guided, giving Bing’s dance off one last glance and leaving a send off in the chat before he disappeared behind the crowd. 

 

**Oliver: C u later Bing**

**Oliver: bst wishs evn thogh we alredy know its gona endup a tie**

**Bing™: pffft later olives**

**Bing™: after this ill give googs another shot at dancing with the master**

**Bing™: which is me**

**Google_0001: I don’t think so. I would highly advise you to reconsider that decision least you wish to have my previous threat fulfilled.**

**Bing™: loosen up googs =P**

**Google_0001: My joints are at a perfectly acceptable level of ‘looseness’.**

**Red: How come Google can type weird**

**Red: And no one complains?**

**Lex: Because there's nothing weird about perfect grammar**

**Bing™: oooooh burn!**

 

It wasn’t really funny, but it still made Bing laugh. A short laugh he had to pass off as being a response to Randy’s flub at a head spin- he almost fell completely backwards before catching himself into a roll and continuing his breakdance. Bing kept his head high, his hands on his hips, and tapped his foot to the beat, letting the cheers of the crowd and the adrenaline of the moment wash over him- it almost felt like he was alive, and not just a machine.

Speaking of being alive, Bing realized he wasn’t acting human enough when Randy finished the dance off breathing hard, visually tired from his workout. He wasn’t even really a dancer, and neither was Bing, but it hadn’t even occurred to him to look exhausted at all, despite how much he’d been aggressively dancing for the past five minutes. Bing let out a deep breath, making a show of bending slightly with his hands on his hips to make it appear like the work was finally catching up with his body. 

“Hey.” Bing glanced up when Randy spoke up over the music to see him holding out his hand. “Uh, good dancing.” Randy said, offering Bing a smile. Bing smiled back, straightening himself while still maintaining the deeper breathing cycle and his shoulders slumped down to appear tired, taking Randy's hand. 

“My pleasure, dude. Big fan.” Bing said. He hadn’t even known who this guy was until he’d looked him up ten minutes ago, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“You are fine that I use this footage of you, right?” Randy asked, pointing back at the video. “Just wanna be clear- you know how it can be sometimes, right?”

“Oh, definitely.” Bing huffed and waved it off. “Youtube sometimes, I swear… just be sure to link me, alright?” he asked. His own channel was mostly skateboard videos and collages with Bro Average, which he was very proud of even if his videos were unintentionally considered comedy by everyone who watched them. “But seriously, it was great meeting you, man. But I’ve gotta go see what my friends are up to.” If they were trying to trick Googs into having fun, he wanted to be there to  _ see _ it.

“Sure, I’ll see you online.” Randy promised, heading back to his friends. The crowd had already started to clear, some people refilling the space they’d taken up as people got back into the swing of things, both literally and figuratively. Bing had been fully planning on stepping away, when a hand slapped him on his back, just below his neck. 

“Now  _ that _ was some cool dancing.” A man stepped in front of him, who looked kinda cool in a brown leather jacket and his blond hair pulled up into a short ponytail. He flashed Bing a grin, which made him feel instantly relaxed. Or maybe that was the quiet buzzing in the back of his skull-

“Think I could buy you a drink?” the man offered, placing a hand on Bing’s arm and leading him towards the back of the club, away from the bar. Bing was grateful for that, because his sense of balance seemed to be miscalibrated, causing him to stumble slightly as he followed after, the music becoming a light throb that he barely registered. Something something about… a light swept across them and Bing tracked it automatically, nearly stumping into the man holding his hand. When he looked back, he realized the human had already pulled out his phone and had been texting someone, already slipping it back into his pocket.

He laughed, a sound which registered a few seconds after it happened. “Looks like you’ve had a little too much, bud. You really need some fresh air before you pass out.” he suggested. Yeah, that made sense. He’d drinken too much. It was only ten seconds after he’d had the thought that it occurred to him he hadn’t drinken anything, and only after that did it occur to him that he couldn’t get drunk if he’d tried. Dimly, without thinking about it, Bing lifted his hand to the lower part of his neck. 

His fingers brushed against a lump just below his neck, right over his synthetic spin. No sooner had his fingers pressed it than an electric shock flew across his system, sending up an error as he yanked his hand away. He was struggling to get a grip on his own systems, but nothing was making sense in his head and there were words in his vision he couldn’t read, couldn’t figure out how to close.  He barely even picked up on the lower temperature that his sensors detected when they existed the back of the club. 

“The fuck? I thought you said it would be a Google unit.”

“I didn’t even know Microsoft made a Bing bot- I figured they’d be too scared to release one.”

“There were four Googles- I even managed to tag one. But they grouped up and I couldn’t risk grabbing it unless I wanted my head through the nearest wall. This one, on the other hand, was all alone and prime for the taking.”

“Who cares- just get it in the van before-”

And just like that, Bing crashed. 


End file.
